


Phoenix Protocol

by Jaiden_S



Series: Unknown [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of SHIELD, Nick Fury decides to take action and initiates Phoenix Protocol. With the help of Maria Hill, The Avengers once again assemble to go after Hydra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tenacity

**Author's Note:**

> This story is Part 3 of the Unknown story arc. It may be read on its own, but it will make more sense if read as part of the series.  
> Part 1 – “Uncertainty” - http://archiveofourown.org/works/1594967/chapters/3392183  
> Part 2 – “Duplicity” - http://archiveofourown.org/works/1886199

_Notes: Spoilers from Marvel:Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  
Summary: Maria Hill has an offer for Sam, and she won’t take no for an answer._

Tenacity

~*~

Sam Wilson rubbed his temple with one hand and held the phone to his ear with the other. “No,” he said for what seemed like the millionth time. “There’s no way we can increase the patient count without compromising quality. Not enough psychiatrists and counselors, not enough intake workers. We’re already way above capacity.”

The woman on the other end of the line droned on about patient wait times and the need to be more productive, but Sam already knew all of that. In the wake of the Veterans’ Administration crisis, the national VA decided to put the D.C. area hospitals under a microscope. Administrators like the one on the phone scrutinized every single detail of their operation looking for ways to improve performance and patient care. Sam was all for improved patient care, but he was at the end of his rope.

“Fine,” he said with resignation. “I’ll do what I can.” The line went dead and he dropped the phone back in its cradle with a bang. His head hurt. The walls of his tiny office felt like they were closing in on him. He leaned back in his chair until it creaked loudly in protest, propped his feet against his desk and stared out the window at the birds chittering on the ledge. One small sparrow pecked at another who had stolen his berry-laden twig. “I feel ya, buddy,” said Sam with a sigh. 

A soft tap at the door drew his attention. “Come on in,” he said as he turned around. 

“Hi, Sam. Do you have a minute?” Maria Hill stood in the doorway in a white suit, looking beautifully crisp and put together in a way that was hard for almost anyone to do in the late summer D.C. heat. 

Sam sat up straighter in his seat and shuffled the stack of papers on his desk to one side. “Sure, yeah,” he replied. “Have a seat.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt and wished now he’d opted for something nicer than khakis. 

“Thanks.” Maria settled into a worn leather chair. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. It looks like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Not the entire world. Just the little corner of it we serve here.” He propped his elbows on his desk. “Every day, I discover a new layer of red tape.”

“It has to be hard, balancing patient care and federal oversight.”

“You have no idea. Somehow, I’m supposed to increase the number of patients we counsel here by 25%, with no increase in budget and a staff shortage. I just…I don’t know how I can make it happen.” Sam’s voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Maria nodded empathetically. “Have you had lunch yet? I know a great Mexican place about half a mile from here, and you look like you could use a break.” 

Sam cocked his head and grinned. He didn’t know what he was expecting from Maria’s visit, but a lunch invitation wasn’t it. His interest piqued, he said, “That sounds great.”

Ten minutes later, they were seated in a small booth near a large window that faced the parking lot. Sam loaded a crispy tortilla chip with salsa and grimaced when a red clump of it landed on the table. Salsa thickness was the unit of measure by which he judged Mexican restaurants. This salsa passed his look test, but it tasted weak. If only it had a little more bite. He reached for the Tabasco sauce. “Do you mind? It needs a kick.”

Maria shook her head. “I’m not eating any. Eating salsa while wearing white is flirting with danger.”

Sam grinned and liberally sprinkled the Tabasco in the little black bowl of salsa. “I thought you liked flirting with danger.”

“Not when it comes to my wardrobe.” Maria laced her fingers together. “I guess you’re wondering why I came to see you.” 

“You missed my flawless style and razor-sharp wit.” Sam curled one side of his mouth into a smile.

“Well, there is that,” said Maria, a teasing note in her voice. “But I have something else I want to discuss with you.”

Sam loaded up another chip. “Shoot.”

“A job offer.”

Sam paused mid-chew. “Uhh bwhaht?” 

“A job offer,” she repeated. “At Stark Industries.”

“I have a job.” Sam took a sip of his water to clear the lingering heat from the salsa and leaned back against the booth bench. “Good benefits, federal retirement.”

“You’re a poorly paid mid-level worker mired in a pit of bureaucracy.”

“You don’t mince words, do you?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “I make enough.” He ignored the bureaucracy comment. That part was true.

“Whatever you’re making, I’ll double it.”

“Why? If I’m a lowly bureaucrat, why do you want me?” 

Maria leaned forward and stared at him intently. “You’re a smart, focused, highly-trained soldier with excellent combat skills and the ability to clear a hallway in under three minutes. You don’t hesitate or fold under pressure. You’re familiar with military issue weapons and how they work. You can handle Tony’s particularly insipid brand of snark. In short, you’re a perfect fit.”

Sam’s eyes widened. She was serious. “Okay. Tell me about the position.”

“Director of Materials and Tests. You’d be responsible for conducting field trials on select Stark Industry military grade weapons, specifically combat and flight suits.”

“I thought Tony was out of the suit business.”

Maria smiled faintly. “He is, officially. Unofficially, there are some prototypes that need tweaking.” She glanced around the restaurant. “There may also be some special projects. Highly sensitive.”

That had his attention. “What sort of special projects?”

“The sort you don’t discuss at a Mexican restaurant.” 

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“No. They have their own agenda.” She gave Sam a pointed look. “And I have mine.”

Sam scratched his chin. “What if I say no?”

“I’ll raise the salary offer until you say yes.” Maria shot Sam a look of pure determination. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Maria said, glancing at her watch. “You have until the food arrives.”

Sam shook his head. “There’s more to a job than a paycheck, and I bet your special projects will have bullets whizzing past my head.”

“Among other things.” Maria lowered her voice and leaned in close. “I need you, Sam. Hydra, Bucky, Steve’s telekinesis...that’s just the tip of a massive iceberg, and I don’t have many people I can trust.”

“But we blew up the Hydra lab.” 

“We blew up _that_ Hydra lab. There are more, and the scientists that ran the experiments are still out there. As long as those labs continue to operate, the threat remains, especially for Bucky and Steve.”

Sam stared at her. “You think they’re going to reactivate Bucky.”

“Yes. And Steve, too, given their mental bond. There could be more men out there that received the serum who we don’t even know about. Think about it. Hydra could have an entire army of super soldiers ready to be activated at a moment’s notice.”

Sam tapped his fingers against the table. Despite all the headaches that went along with working for the VA, he liked his job. His team at the hospital needed him, and the area veterans needed an advocate. But what if Steve needed him more? “If I say yes, I want some time off each month to volunteer at the VA hospital.”

“Done,” Maria quickly said. “Give your notice today. You’ll start with Stark Industries next Tuesday.”

Sam blinked. “I haven’t actually agreed yet.”

Maria arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, okay, fine,” said Sam with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be at Stark Industries on Tuesday, ready to work.”

“Excellent.” Maria paused as the waitress delivered their food. “Bring an overnight bag with you. We may be taking a little trip.”

~*~

As Maria dropped Sam back off in front of the VA hospital, her phone jangled noisily in her purse. She fished it out. “Maria Hill.”

“Tell me he’s on board.” Nick Fury phrased it as more of an order than a question.

“He’s on board at double his current salary and time off to volunteer.” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “Bruce and Tony are on their way back to D.C. Clint and Natasha are coming to you in Buenos Aires. That’s everyone.”

“Almost everyone. Make the call to Cap. He’s vacationed long enough.”

“Yes, sir.” Maria ended the call and took a deep breath. She knew what that meant.

Phoenix Protocol was underway.


	2. Trepidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky's vacation ends rather unexpectedly.

The lunch crowd at the beachside restaurant was small, even for 2pm. Other than a group of young boys celebrating a birthday and a sprinkling of older men at the bar, Bucky and Steve had the place to themselves.

Bucky scanned the menu for the third time. So many selections. Even now, a month after recovering his memories, he sometimes felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices available to him every day, in every situation. _Just pick something_ , he said to himself.

“I’m getting the fried shrimp basket,” Steve announced as he closed his menu with a decisive thwap.

“I thought you didn’t eat fried food.” 

“I’m on vacation and I’m going to eat whatever I want.” 

“You rebel,” chuckled Bucky. “What happened to the health nut I came here with?”

Steve’s eyes danced mischievously. “He’s been corrupted by a bad influence.”

Bucky looked up from his menu. “Are you calling me bad?” He fought to keep from grinning.

Steve leaned close and whispered in Bucky’s ear. “Absolutely.” 

Bucky inhaled deeply. Steve smelled like the American dream, all sunshine and Ivory Soap and apple pie. A little thrill raced through him. Just a few short hours ago, he’d had Mr. Star-Spangled Man with a Plan writhing underneath him, hair mussed, face flushed, completely undone. Nobody else got to see him like that. Nobody. Just him.

“What are you going to have? I think the waitress is ready.” Steve glanced over his shoulder at a petite brunette in a T-shirt and cutoffs hovering near the bar. She smiled. He nudged Bucky with his elbow. “It’s lunch, not rocket science.”

“Crabcakes.” Bucky closed his menu and elbowed Steve in return. “I didn’t know we were on a schedule.”

“Crabcakes again? You’re going to turn into a crab.”

Bucky reached under the table and pinched Steve’s thigh. “Maybe I already have.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply when the waitress appeared in front of them, killing the moment. Bucky managed to pinch Steve’s thigh three more times during the ordering process. To his credit, Steve barely flinched. Barely.

“Let’s eat in a hurry,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s ear after she left. “I’m suddenly feeling the urge to nap.”

A slow smile spread over Bucky’s face. “I don’t think you’ll be doing much sleeping.”

“I hope not.” Steve bit his lower lip. Bucky wondered how he was going to make it through the meal.

“Let’s get the food to go,” suggested Bucky. He squeezed Steve’s thigh under the table.

“Hey, mister.” A young boy with an unruly shock of red hair and an explosion of freckles over his nose tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Are you Captain America?”

Steve brushed Bucky’s hand away, then turned to face the boy, smile locked firmly in place. “I sure am. How’d you know?”

“I have your picture on my backpack,” said the boy. “It’s at our table. Will you autograph it for me?”

“Of course,” said Steve. He rose to his feet and gave Bucky a helpless grin. “If the waitress comes back, order me another iced tea.”

Bucky raised his beer. “You got it, Cap.” He watched with amusement as the entire table full of boys jumped up and squirmed around Steve’s legs like a pack of frisky puppies. As much as Steve complained about lack of privacy, Bucky suspected he secretly enjoyed the attention. 

Their waitress was at the bar placing a drink order. Bucky walked over and changed their order to-go. 

“Quite a friend you’ve got there. Looks like he’s gonna be a while,” said a rugged looking guy nursing a beer at the bar. He was older, but quite fit, with close-cropped gray hair and a Semper Fidelis tattoo on his left forearm.

Bucky pulled out the barstool next to him and climbed onto it. “Probably. He’s making some kid’s day.”

“How about a beer, soldier?” The man held up two fingers to the bartender, then slid one of the beers in Bucky’s direction. 

Bucky’s brow creased. “How’d you know I was a soldier?”

The man nodded at Bucky’s prosthetic arm. “You can’t buy one of those at Walmart.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. He’d forgotten to roll his shirtsleeves down and metallic arms tended to draw attention. “I guess not,” he admitted. “James Barnes,” he said offering his hand.

“Bill Hastings,” the man replied, giving Bucky’s hand a firm shake. “Vietnam vet. Where’d you see action?”

Bucky’s mind raced. If he told the truth – World War 2 – the man would think he was a nut. “Um….” 

“You can’t remember? Never met a soldier who forgot where he served.” Bill eyed him pointedly.

Bucky closed his eyes. _Come on come on come on come on._ “Iraq,” he blurted. He could feel little beads of sweat popping out along his hairline. “Sorry,” he added, tapping his forehead. “Sometimes things get a little fuzzy.” 

Bill nodded and took a sip of his beer. “I understand. War can do a number on you.” He glanced at Bucky’s arm again. “That’s one hell of an arm.”

Bucky flexed his fingers. “I’m used to it. I’ve had it longer than I had my real arm.”

“How’s that? You can’t be a day over 25.” 

Bucky scrambled for an appropriate reply. “I mean, it feels like I’ve had it forever.” He flung a desperate look over his shoulder at Steve, who still held court at the back table. No help there. He tugged at his collar uncomfortably.

“How long you been back stateside?”

“A year.” That was actually the truth, or at least he thought it was the truth. Sometimes his mind betrayed him. His most recent combat memory flashed through his consciousness. Wind. Sand. The sun beating down on his back and shoulders. A lone outpost in the desert. A quick hit, in and out. A group of Kurdish rebels, a spray of bullets and a hard run to the rendezvous point. He blinked and the memory dissipated like fog in the morning sun.

“Long enough to be re-acclimated,” said Bill. He took a long draught of his beer. “It took me a while to adjust to being home. Twenty years of combat will do that to you, make it hard to let go, hard to forget.”

Twenty years. Bucky picked at the label on his beer bottle with his thumbnail. Though he wasn’t sure of exactly how long he’d served for Hydra, he suspected it was at least twice that. Forty years of extractions and kill-shots and covert operations, most of which he didn’t fully remember. Not that he wanted to. The few shadowy memories that did surface from time-to-time were enough. “I wish I could forget.”

Bill’s eyes were hard. “It would be nice if we could wipe everything and start over.”

 _Wipe everything._ That turn of phrase shook him. A fragmented memory of Alexander Pierce giving that order ripped through his vision like a jagged shard of glass. Bucky felt trapped. He pushed back from the bar and stood up, shoulders squared. “Thanks for the beer,” he said evenly. 

Bill stared at him for a long moment. “You’re welcome, Sergeant Barnes.”

Cold panic gripped Bucky like an icy hand. “I never said I was a sergeant.” His hands clenched into fists at his side.

Bill swiveled on his bar stool to face him, his voice low. “I know who you are.” 

Bucky’s heart thudded exactly twice in his chest before his training and instinct took over. He hurdled over the bar, much to the surprise of the bartender, and pushed his way through the swinging doors behind the bar into the kitchen. The fry cook barked at him in alarm, but Bucky blew on past, slowing down only long enough kick open the rear door. Once he hit the parking lot, he broke into a full sprint, not stopping until he was on the other side of the next set of beach condos. He peered around the corner. Nobody seemed to be following him. In the shade of the tall condo unit, he stopped, resting his hands on his knees, and tried to collect his thoughts. He’d left Steve. Dammit, he had to go back and get him out of there. 

Before Bucky could move, Steve came skidding around the edge of the building and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Bucky! What happened in there?! I felt this surge of adrenaline and turned around to see you flying out the back door!” His eyes were wide and brimming with concern. 

“He knew me.” Bucky closed his hands around Steve’s wrists. “The man at the bar. He called me by name.”

Steve relaxed his grip and laid his palms flat against Bucky’s chest. “Buck, people are gonna recognize you. There’s a ten foot display of you at the Smithsonian.” He sighed and gave Bucky a little smile. “I should have prepared you for that.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s hands fell to his sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” said Steve. “No need to apologize. Stuff happens.”

Bucky nodded. “He didn’t seem like a fan of the Howling Commandos, though. He was…” His mind searched for the right term. “It was more than just recognition. He _knew_ me, and he was waiting at the bar to confront me.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. He pulled the room key out of his pocket and handed it to Bucky. “Go to the room and start packing. I’ll go pay for the food and meet you up there in five. We need to go.”

~*~

As Steve jogged back to the restaurant, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hi, Maria,” he said.

“Hi, Steve,” Maria Hill replied. “I’m sorry to interrupt your vacation, but we need you to come in.”

“We’re on our way,” he said curtly and ended the call with a click. Maria calling the same day as Bucky’s confrontation? Steve doubted it was a coincidence. He didn’t believe in those anymore. He squared his shoulders. Whatever was going on, he and Bucky needed to find out.


	3. Subterfuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint rendezvous with Fury in Argentina. Tony and Bruce discuss the finer points of day-old coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information:  
> Tuskegee Syphilis Study - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuskegee_syphilis_experiment  
> Harvard stem cell study - http://wyss.harvard.edu/viewpressrelease/155/researchers-use-light-to-coax-stem-cells-to-repair-teeth  
> Queensland University of Technology - http://www.news.qut.edu.au/cgi-bin/WebObjects/News.woa/wa/goNewsPage?newsEventID=73438

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Clint Barton squinted up at the dilapidated building on the outskirts of Palermo neighborhood in Buenos Aires. French style architecture dominated this part of the district, and the building’s façade spoke of the city’s former wealth. As the neighborhood had become less gentrified, the once magnificent details crumbled and faded like torn lace on a vintage dress. Beautiful, but in need of mending.

Natasha glanced at her phone. “Yeah. This has to be right.” 

Clint placed his hand on the metal door handle. It didn’t budge. He gave it a hard yank. A small camera dropped down from out of nowhere and trained right on him.

“Password,” bleated a tinny, mechanical voice.

“Password? Nat, did he give you a password? I don’t know any password,” said Clint.

“Nope. His text just said to come here. He didn’t say how to get into the building.”

Clint grimaced. “Aww, Fury.”

“Identified,” replied the voice. One deep, metallic click and the front door swung open.

“Seriously?” Clint’s forehead creased in irritation.

Natasha threw her head back and laughed, which caused Clint’s scowl to deepen. “God, that’s classic,” she chuckled.

“I can’t believe I’m that predictable,” grumbled Clint.

“Afraid so.” Natasha reached up and patted his cheek. “It’s part of your charm.”

Clint gave one of her auburn curls a gentle tug. “Nice to know you find part of me charming.”

Natasha peered up at him from under her thick lashes. “A couple of parts more than others.”

They stepped into the high-ceilinged foyer and the door closed behind them, the lock sliding into place with a solid click. To their right, on the far end of the marble floored entranceway, was an ancient elevator. It chimed, and the doors creaked open. 

They exchanged a glance, then stepped inside. There were no buttons, but once the doors closed, the elevator ascended quickly to the top floor. A few seconds later, it opened to a brightly lit studio workspace.

“Not what I was expecting,” said Clint as he stepped out onto the hardwood floor. 

“It ain’t S.H.I.E.L.D. command, but it’ll do.” Nick Fury rose from his desk by the window and crossed the room to greet them. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a half-smile. “We were in the area.”

Clint dropped his pack next to the sofa and shook Nick’s hand. “Who else knows you’re alive?”

“A handful of people I trust. You, Coulson, Stark, the usual suspects.” Nick gestured for them to sit down on a long leather sofa and he dropped into a chair across from them. “I intend to remain dead for the foreseeable future.”

“For the record, it’s working. I didn’t know until Nat told me.” Clint leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Let’s keep it that way.” Nick dropped a couple of folders on the coffee table between them. “This is why I called you here.” He tapped the folders with his fingertips. “Hydra is on the move again. We’ve tracked one of their top scientists to here in Argentina and believe that one of their largest laboratories is just outside of Cordoba, not far from the National University. How familiar are you with stem cell research?”

“Somewhat,” said Natasha. 

“According to my sources, the Cordoba lab conducts some of the most cutting-edge research in stem cell research, with a particular emphasis on ensuring bone marrow stem cells differentiate into brain cells. Ostensibly, the results could be used to heal patients suffering from brain damage and severe neurological incapacitation, but I have reason to believe that Hydra scientists are taking that research and expanding it into other areas.”

Clint rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Regeneration?”

“Exactly,” replied Nick. “Harvard released a study earlier this year on the application of lasers to stem cells that resulted in growing teeth. Just envision what else could be grown.”

“Or perfected,” added Natasha. “Super soldiers who can heal themselves, grow a new arm, recover from catastrophic injuries. An army full of Steve Rogers.”

“More like Bucky Barnes,” Nick corrected. “Soldiers who can be created, wiped and re-created at will. Imagine the implications.”

“Damn,” breathed Clint. “So, what’s the play?”

Nick slid one of the folders toward Natasha. “You’re a scientist from Queensland University of Technology in Brisbane. They developed the technology being used in the lab and you’re coming in as an advisor. Your mission is to uncover exactly what experiments they’re conducting and collect evidence on the results. Work on your accent.” 

The other folder he dropped in front of Clint. “You don’t need a cover, since you’ve established yourself as a gun for hire. The story is that you have a buyer who wants information on the soldier program. Find out when and where the first super soldier activation trials will begin. Try not to injure yourself.”

Clint picked at the Band-Aid on his forearm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Natasha nudged him with her shoulder. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Nick looked doubtful, but continued. “I’m counting on it.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankles. “Plane tickets, IDs and keys to the apartment are in your folder, Natasha. Maps and logistics in Clint’s. No contact with me until you have the information. Any questions?”

“Yeah. How does S.H.I.E.L.D. play into this?” asked Clint.

“It doesn’t,” said Fury. “And if you catch even the faintest whiff that they’re onto you, abort. I’ve initiated Phoenix Protocol. We’re on our own.”

~*~

The smell of burnt coffee hit Tony Stark like a punch in the face the instant he entered the room. “Good lord, man!” He stomped across the laboratory to the coffee pot and took a sniff. The cold, briny liquid was as black as motor oil. “How can you drink this crap?”

Bruce Banner just shrugged and took a sip. “Lots of sugar? I found it in the pot and heated in the microwave.”

Tony’s lips twisted in disgust. “It’s at least a day old.” He walked to the sink and poured the rest of it down the drain.

“Hey! That’s a waste of perfectly drinkable coffee!” Bruce exclaimed.

“I think our definitions of ‘drinkable’ differ considerably.” Tony swished clean water around in the carafe and busied himself making a new pot. “Life is too short to drink bad coffee.”

Bruce sniffed the contents of his mug. To be honest, it did smell a bit rancid. He placed the mug on the edge of the table and pushed it away. 

Tony hit the brew button on the coffee maker and swiveled to face Bruce. “In spite of your weird coffee habits, it’s great that you’re here. Pepper likes having someone other than me to entertain. It gives her an excuse to break out the good dishes and cook a real meal. I tend to eat standing up over the sink. Last time Rogers stopped by, she made these little cupcake thingies with frosting in the center.”

“I’ve heard of those,” said Bruce, grinning from ear-to-ear. “There’s a bakery in NYC that sells them.”

“It’s an injection process.” Tony grabbed a nearby pad and started sketching. “Poke a hole in the top and inject the frosting, unless it’s a Twinkie, and then you do it from the bottom, but I’ve designed a better delivery model that involves multiple delivery points and a better cake to frosting ratio.” He flipped the pad around to show Bruce his design, which was a large compressor with a mass of tubes, each one tipped with a syringe of frosting.

Bruce gave a low whistle. “That’s a thing of art, Tony. Is Pepper going to let you tear up her kitchen to put that in?”

“Not a chance. We discussed it. She said no. I’m working on a prototype, anyway. This thing could be huge.”

“What could be huge?” asked Maria as she walked in, heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor.

“Cupcake injectors,” said Tony. He slid the pad toward Maria. “Use my multiple injection prototype and every bite of the cupcake has frosting.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “Or you could just, you know, frost it with a knife.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Right,” said Maria with a nod. “Anyway, I guess you’re both wondering why I called this meeting.”

“Oh, you called it. I thought Tony did,” said Bruce.

“If I’d called it, we’d have real coffee. And cupcakes,” Tony said with a sniff. “Whatever. What’s this about? I don’t remember any ongoing projects involving Bruce.”

Maria pulled two folders out of her briefcase and dropped them on the table. A symbol of a phoenix rising from the flames emblazoned each one. “Phoenix Protocol.”

“Subtle,” said Tony as he eyed the logo.

Maria pointedly ignored that remark. “Phoenix Protocol was put into place by Nick Fury as a last resort, in the event something happened to S.H.I.E.L.D. leadership.”

“I thought Coulson had taken over.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “And I thought Fury was gone.”

“Wrong.” Maria paused to relish the moment. It wasn’t often she could tell Tony he was wrong, and she rather enjoyed it. “He’s underground, but he’s far from gone.”

“Good to know he has his eye on me,” said Tony.

“He’s wants you to fund a new lab in New Mexico and get it up and running within a week. Testing facilities, training areas, the best technology,” said Maria. 

“What’s in it for me?”

“A chance to officially get back into the suit business.”

Tony blinked once. “Done. How soon can I cut the check?”

“That was easy,” remarked Bruce as he sipped some fresh coffee. He looked at Maria over the top of his mug. “And I’m guessing you want me to help run the trials.”

“Not exactly. I’ve hired Sam Wilson to do that. What I’d like for you to do is some forward genetic screening on Steve and Bucky. If we can identify the specific mutagen responsible for their telekinesis, then maybe we can target the trigger Hydra uses to wipe and activate super soldiers.”

Bruce shrugged. “We know the basic formula for Steve’s serum, thanks to Howard Stark’s notes. The rest shouldn’t be too difficult. But why New Mexico? What’s wrong with here?”

Maria opened one of the files and slid a satellite image across the worktable. “Los Alamos National Lab,” she said and pointed to a building circled with red ink. “We believe Hydra has infiltrated the lab and is working on creating super soldiers under the guise of a national defense contract.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “In other words, screw the suits, let’s build our boys up from the cellular level.”

“Are you suggesting human trials are being conducted at Los Alamos? That’s a serious accusation,” said Bruce. “And highly unlikely. After the syphilis experiments at Tuskegee, the government put protocols in place as safeguards.”

“They’re being conducted somewhere, most likely Argentina,” Maria replied. “But someone associated with Los Alamos is developing the technology side. Super soldiers need weapons as advanced as they are.”

“Suits?” asked Tony.

“Suits,” confirmed Maria. 

“I should have known. You only love me for my metal alloys.”

“I love you because you sign my paycheck.” 

“It’s okay, Tony,” said Bruce. He reached over and patted him on the leg. “I love you for you.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” said Tony, dryly. 

Maria grinned. “As soon as our mutual love-fest is over, we need to get started. A week isn’t much time.”


	4. Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner makes a discovery. Steve and Bucky go undercover. Tony remains a smartass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4. This is NOT compliant with Avengers: Age of Ultron.   
> I apologize for taking so long between updates. I fell into a Steve/Bucky hole and couldn't climb out of it. 
> 
> I have a finished companion piece that I can't post until June 4, because it's part of a Big Bang challenge. If I can get off my duff and write another chapter between now and then, I'll do my best. If not, look for the next update to be June 4 or after.

The lab Tony refitted near Los Alamos, NM was once a fallout shelter, but it served the purpose of a covert workstation quite nicely. Being hundreds of feet below ground meant that most surveillance devices wouldn’t work. Unfortunately, it also meant that cell phone reception was spotty at best, non-existent at worst.

“I can’t work like this,” griped Maria. “What if Fury needs to reach me?”

“Last time I checked, you worked for me,” said Tony. He raised his nose and sniffed dramatically. “Is that a whiff of insubordination in the air?”

“I do work for you, and you work for Fury, so technically I work for both of you.”

“Fury can leave you a message at the tone.” Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me. Do you two have a thing? Rogers is the only one around here allowed to have a thing…well, and Barnes, but technically he’s Rogers’ thing.”

“If by ‘thing’ you mean running a covert mission, then yes. There’s a thing. A big thing. I’m overseeing two projects, one here and one in South America. If either thing goes sideways, I need to know immediately.” Maria looked down her nose at Tony, which wasn’t hard to do when wearing four inch heels. “I need to have cell reception.”

Tony gave her a glare that could frighten a charging rhino. “Jarvis,” he said without breaking his stare, “raise the exterior antenna for Ms. Hill. She needs to check on her thing.”

“Yes, sir,” came Jarvis’ disembodied reply. A whir sounded in the distance. “Done.”

Maria put her hands on her hips and allowed herself a half-smile. “You could have just told me there was already an antenna.”

“What? And miss the speech about your thing? Not a chance.” Tony reached for his coffee. “Where’s the rest of the Scooby gang? Still in the Mystery Machine?”

“Bruce is in the examination room doing some bloodwork. He thinks he can isolate the genes that mutated in response to the serum. Steve and Bucky are on a surveillance mission.”

“Gotcha,” said Tony. “I have a meeting this afternoon with a Department of Defense rep and a researcher at the National Lab to discuss suits.” He gestured toward his laptop. “Plans are loaded and ready to go.”

“What’s the time frame on the prototypes?”

“Assuming they like the plans, and they always do, I can start on the suits in about 24 hours.” He side-eyed a mechanical arm that hung from the ceiling. The tiny camera mounted on the front of it turned toward him in anticipation of receiving an order. “That’s assuming machine-head here can follow specs.” 

“Careful,” Maria said. “You don’t want to hurt its feelings.” 

Tony sipped his coffee. “It knows who the boss is. I pulled it out of the scrap heap and I can toss it right back in.”

The camera drooped ever so slightly. 

~*~

Down the hall, Bruce hunched over a microscope and peered down at a droplet of Bucky’s blood. He’d drawn it the previous afternoon, intending to compare it to some control samples he’d collected from a couple of ex-military SHIELD agents stationed there in NM, but something was wrong. He’d obviously made a mistake somewhere. Confused, he checked his notes. No, no mistake. There it was in black and white. 

“Oh, boy.” Bruce swiped his hand down his face. 

~*~

In a run-down roadside inn just off the interstate, Bucky lay sprawled on an avocado green striped bedspread and stared at the popcorn ceiling, his eyes following a crack that ran the length of it. “C’mon, Steve,” he hollered from his spot on the bed. “What’d you do? Fall in? You’re taking longer than a sixteen year old on date night.”

“Hold your horses. Beauty like this takes time,” Steve replied. He stepped out of the bathroom his still damp hair now closely cropped on the sides and dyed a soft shade of brown. Colored contacts changed the hue of his eyes from bright blue to a golden hazel.

Bucky pushed himself up on one elbow and looked Steve up and down. “Not bad. Whoever said gentlemen prefer blonds was wrong.”

“Whoever said you were a gentleman was also wrong.” Steve grinned and dug through his suitcase for a shirt that didn’t smell like hair color. “As soon as I’m changed, we can get going.”

“I still think it’s a bad idea, you going in.”

“You can’t go in alone. Besides, nobody will recognize me.”

Bucky blinked, incredulous. “You’re Captain America.”

“It’s the suit they know, Bucky. Trust me. I’ll sail right through.”

When they’d arrived in New Mexico the previous day, they swung by Tony’s makeshift lab to give blood samples to Bruce and to discuss strategy with Maria Hill. Turns out, she’d already made plans for Steve, new hair color and new ID to match. Joshua Simpson, military contractor for database security, would be dropping by Los Alamos National Lab to check on a possible security breach that had happened over the weekend. 

Bucky’s transformation had been less about his facial appearance and more about covering the metal arm with a latex hybrid. It looked natural, and unless someone cut it deeply enough to reach the metal underneath, nobody would be the wiser. According to his new ID, he was Brant Holley, tech coordinator, whatever that was. At least he didn’t have to dye his hair.

The badges Maria had secured allowed them access into the secure lab area through the vehicle access portal on West Jemez Road. After a brief stop by the guards, they were waved through and on their way to the biosurveillance building, where the supposed security breach had occurred.

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Bucky scanned the passing buildings as Steve drove. He’d seen tighter security, but not by much. Cameras were everywhere.

“Not entirely,” admitted Steve. He pulled the gray sedan into a parking spot marked for visitors and turned off the ignition. “According to the notes, today is a scheduled follow-up for some of the volunteers in a study for mapping human molecular mechanisms using x-ray crystallography. It allows them a 3-d picture of actual human proteins. Believe it or not, it’s also called Phenix.”

Bucky swiveled his head around to give Steve a look. “Seriously?”

“Can’t make this stuff up.” Steve pointed toward the building in front of them. “When I log in to repair the security breach, it’ll allow SHIELD access to the database for a few minutes, hopefully long enough to download some of the x-rays and scans.”

“Why am I here, then?” 

“To interact with the human volunteers. If they’re part of a supersoldier program like Fury suspects, you may feel a mental connection with them, too…like the one you feel with me. So, just wander off. Accidently get lost.” Steve’s mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. “I was going to say pretend to be dumb, but you don’t really have to pretend.”

Bucky raised his middle finger in Steve’s general direction and climbed out of the car. “Try not to dazzle them too much with your vast technical knowledge, smartass.”

“I’ll make sure I tone it down for them,” teased Steve.

A short woman with dark hair and large goggles atop her head, Dr. Pho, met them just inside the doorway and directed them to the database servers. “There was a thunderstorm Sunday evening that knocked out power for a few minutes, and the server hasn’t been working correctly ever since.”

“Probably just needs a reboot,” said Steve with all the confidence he could muster.

“We’ve already tried that.” Dr. Pho gave him a withering look. “It was the first thing we did.”

A fine sheen of sweat broke out along Steve’s freshly dyed hairline. “Then let me take a look and get to the bottom of it.” He pulled out the rolling chair positioned in front of a keyboard and started typing.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” asked Bucky. “It was a long ride and I gotta hit the can.”

“Just down the hallway to the left. You can’t miss it.” Dr. Pho pointed to a long corridor with a set of double doors at the end of it. “Come back here when you’re done.”

“Sure thing.” Bucky started to walk, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly off the tiled floors and bare walls.

Once he reached the men’s room, he paused outside the door for a second to look around. The corridor was empty. Leaning back against the white wall, he closed his eyes and let his mind go blank, pushing energy out through his mental pathways to see if anything responded. For a long, tense moment, nothing happened, and then he felt it. A faint tingle like a hint of a breeze on a warm summer day. Curious, he pushed harder, flooding his connection with a single question: who is out there?

The response was faint but immediate. Bucky’s eyes flew open. Tiny sparks of surprise lit up inside of him, each one indicating a different consciousness that he’d brushed. Though weak, the connections were there, and likely in close proximity to where he stood. 

Quietly, he crept toward the double doors at the end of the hallway and peered through the glass panel on one of them. Seven men and two women stood lined up on the right side of the room, waiting to give blood samples. They spoke to each other in hushed voices, eyes darting around, shoulders hunched forward. One man’s voice carried louder than the rest. “It was like a voice in my head or something, but how did we _all_ hear it?”

Bucky turned on his heels and briskly strode back to the server room, where he found Steve oozing boyish charm all over Dr. Pho. “Oh, there you are,” grinned Steve. “Turns out the server did just need another reboot.”

“We thought maybe you got lost,” added Dr. Pho, not bothering to take her eyes off of Steve.

“Nope. Tacos for lunch.” Bucky rubbed his stomach. “Might want to avoid that end of the hallway for thirty…forty-five minutes.”

Dr. Pho looked horrified and Steve grabbed his elbow and herded him out the door. “Let me know if I need to come back for a follow-up,” called Steve over his shoulder. 

Once they got in the car, Steve could hardly contain himself. “Worked like a charm,” he bragged with a self-satisfied grin. “And she bought the whole thing.” 

“There are nine of them,” Bucky said softly. “And they have no idea what’s happening to them, but they’ve been given serum. Hydra supersoldier serum. The psychic connection’s only going to grow stronger, and that’s only one test group. Who knows how many more people have been injected?” 

Before Steve could answer, the phone in his pocket buzzed loudly. “Rogers.”

“You and Skynet need to get back here now,” barked Tony on the other end of the line. “Banner’s found something in the blood samples.”

“What is it?” Steve’s brow creased.

“Traces of Bucky’s serum in the control sample.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“It means Hydra’s way past the testing phase. They’re administering the serum to selected military personnel without their permission or knowledge. Shit’s about to get real.”


End file.
